


You Fixed It For Me

by KitanaRiddle



Series: Soulmate Verse [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Presumed Dead, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitanaRiddle/pseuds/KitanaRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The blonde woman started to laugh, "Oh goodness. Here I was thinking there was no way you could be the John on my hand cause you're gay. Probably for the best though since I would've tried to date you otherwise."</i><br/><i>With a pale face the doctor sat beside her, "Your... Your soulmate name is John?"<br/><i>"Yeah. But you never gave me a second look so I figured yours isn't Mary."<br/><i>"It is."</i></i><br/></i><br/>Second part to Dear James, Will You Fix It For Me. Inspired by season 3. Spoilers for episode one, The Empty Hearse.<br/>Mary and John focused as well as Mycroft and Jim. Mentions of Irene and Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fixed It For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed and unbritpicked

"This is your fault," Mycroft glared at his lover who was in turn glaring at his phone.

The text message simply read, **LAZARUS**.

"I miscalculated that Sebastian actually had a brain and would be capable of following through with one of my plans. Althoooough, I could have told you he'd respond viciously to your offer for him to join us on the dark side. Should've consulted me."

Mycroft pressed his lips together, "Yes I suppose you are the consultant."

"A consultant on all things criminal, and yet working for the side of the angels. A bit dull but it keeps my soulmate happy," Jim huffed.

The British government pressed a kiss to the Irish man's hair, "That it does. Now let's go kill my brother."

* * *

With Sherlock and Jim running wild across the world slowly destroying the web that once belonged to Moriarty, Mycroft's only reminder that the previous year existed was when he'd check up on John Watson. The doctor walked around with a sullen look and a dejected mood, almost as if it were his soulmate brand that had faded black. John had gone to see Irene and heard of her plans to move to America until the whole mess has settled. That news caused the blond man to accuse her of never truly loving Sherlock. She'd slapped the man and neither John nor Mycroft had heard off her since. The latter strongly suspected she'd run off to join her soulmate in the foolish and dangerous attempt to take on the strongest criminal organization in the world.

It was a night when Mycroft would stare at his hand, the letters still a deep red, and if John managed to do the one thing he never could. Had John Watson been able to fall in love with someone that wasn't his soulmate? Did the green _Mary_ written on the man's hand mean nothing to him? Mycroft wondered how lonely his life would've been if he'd walked away from James in that cell. He shuddered and checked once more that the letters were still red before falling asleep.

* * *

The former criminal and the consultant detective had been gone just under seven months when John Watson met the new administrative assistant, Mary Morstan.  The woman had short, blonde hair and laughter that could make an entire room smile. When the two were introduced Mary perked up at the name John whereas the doctor barely raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Are you alright?" She asked him after she'd worked there a month and never once seen the man smile.

John's head shot up, he hadn't been noticed the woman sit across from him, "I'm... Well it's complicated. But I'm getting there."

Mary had heard the office gossip that the tattered, slightly too large, fingerless gloves that John wore at all times, even under his medical gloves were the gloves of his dead soulmate. Mary was reaching an age where she wondered if she'd ever meet her soulmate at all, but seeing the broken look in John's eyes made her grateful that she'd never met them only to lose them.

"That's good to hear, John. You know I'm always around for a trip to the pub or even lunch breaks if you need someone."

"I'm not really wanting to talk about this-" John started.

Mary cut him off with a smile and a wave of her hand, "Not to talk. Well to talk about small talk stuff, but mainly so you have someone around. Like a friend or even just two coworkers.."

It was then that John truly looked at her for the first time. Genuine sincerity and not a trace of pity left John agreeing to a trip to the pub after work.

The rest of his shift passed as slowly and dull as usual; however, John felt slight excitement as his shift came to an end.

Mary was filing the last few items on her desk when John wandered out of his office and around the corner, "There's this place, Angelo's, I know the owner. We could grab dinner and a beer there?"

She gave another one of her smiles, John noticed how the corners of her eyes rose and how they'd seem to have changed from a blue colour to a green since lunch. He ran outside to warm up the car and bring it round to the front while Mary finished inside. Her hair fluttered in the wind as she walked over to the passenger door.

"Sorry, had to call my boyfriend and let him know I was out for dinner."

John felt relief wash over him as she mentioned her boyfriend, he knew he wasn't in a good place emotionally and knowing Mary wasn't _his_ Mary, made it easier.

She kept the conversation going, not seeming to mind that John hadn't much to say. They arrived at Angelo's and the man came rushing from behind the counter at the sight of the doctor.

"John!" He exclaimed while pulling the man into a slightly awkward hug, "I was sorry to hear about Sherlock. Shame they haven't cleared his name..." Angelo's eyes wandered to Mary, "Oh, any friend of Sherlock's John is a friend of mine. I'll get you table by the window and dinner's on me, like old time!"

 **Gay. He's gay.** The lingering thought that told Mary that maybe it wasn't John's soulmate that caused him to lack light in his eyes were smothered upon hearing that. It was for the best though, her and Craig got along well despite the purple name on his hand and the green one on hers.

Once both parties were satisfied the other wasn't their soulmate, the conversation started flowing smoother and soon John was actively joining in rather than passively answering.

Mary was too full for a dessert but John felt himself craving the cherry cobbler that he used to order. Sherlock always ended up stealing most of, as long as there wasn't a case.

"Sure you don't want some? It was Sherlock's favourite."

Mary's curiosity got the best of her and she found herself asking, "Angelo mentioned him. Who was he?"

John's throat tightened as he dropped his spoon to the table with a clatter, "He was... My flatmate and," he took a deep breath, "and he killed himself. Right in front of my eyes. Jumped off the bloody wall. All cause he couldn't handle his reputation being wrecked. Stupid git."

Suddenly John felt a weight lifted off his shoulders as he spoke about Sherlock with the first person since his therapist.

"Sounds like a right wanker," Mary smiled, "and was a great person for you to mourn them like this."

"The best person I've known," John admitted.

Mary placed a quick hand over John's in comfort before pulling it away and grabbing her phone as it buzzed, "It's Craig. He's on his way to the store, wanted to know if I need a pick up. Thanks for dinner John, I'm glad we're going to be friends."

John smiled for what felt like the first time in months, "I'm glad too. See you tomorrow."

"Drive safe!"

* * *

After four months of John and Mary getting lunches together and grabbing a pint after work, the office had all but forgotten the sullen and miserable man the Doctor Watson used to be. He greeted everyone with a smile and a tilt of his tea cup in the mornings, he was the first to clamber onto stage and sing an off key karaoke song during a coworkers birthday party, and he'd become the charmer of the office.  The women would whisper about Mary and sometimes to her, asking how she'd snagged the man for herself, or why she wasn't snagging the man for herself, and on one memorable occasion how she'd manage to make him fall in love with her even though they weren't soulmates. The other male doctors and nurses liked to pretend they were above the relationship gossip but when John joined them for football nights, he always ended up reminding them that Mary had a boyfriend, and it wasn't him.  
Mary found herself half in love with John and Sherlock's relationship. She wondered if she'd find her soulmate one day and get to share a crazy, whirlwind romance like the two men.

She never expected Craig would meet his soulmate during their one year anniversary dinner. She'd bought him a new pair of gloves, ones with a rubber grip in the palm so he use it while working, and he had pulled off his old ones to try on the gift. Mary was used to seeing her name written in purple on his hand but was startled by a sharp gasp from behind her. Their waitress was staring at the ink while pulling off her own black gloves. Written on her hand was Craig in the same violet. Mary watched in horror as Craig raised his hand and stroked his naked finger down the waitress's nose. She knew she'd lost the man when he stood and pulled the other woman into his arms without a second glance at his date. Unfortunately everyone else in the restaurant stared at her as she made her way to the door. Craig had driven them so she found herself digging out her Oyster card and heading into the train station. She'd blindly sat down, attempting to keep the tears welling in her eyes from falling.

"Mary?" She heard a voice from beside her.

Looking up she saw John, remembering how he’d mentioned his car was in the shop, and suddenly the tears started flowing. The doctor watched in shock as the always cheerful Mary cried in front of him. He led her to his apartment and listened to her woeful tale. With half a bottle of wine emptied and Mary feeling better, he led the woman into his bed, giving grateful thanks that he'd changed his sheets two days before and didn't have to make her sleep on the sofa.

"I'm sorry John," she whispered as he grabbed a pillow and a blanket.

"Don't be sorry. It's nice," John turned off light, "being needed again."

"Thank-you."

With a smile, John closed the door and made up the sofa. He fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

It had been 15 months since Sherlock had jumped off the roof at Bart's. Mycroft had started wearing his gloves less and less frequently, needing the constant reminder that Jim was alive. He spent most of his free time reflecting on their short but passionate time together. The government official began to fully appreciate how Jim had given up everything for him: his power over politics, his influence over crime, his enjoyment of the kill, his passion for mayhem. Jim was still dangerous, still had the glint of rage in his eyes and that's why Mycroft had him employed only as a consultant under his trusted colleague, Timber Clayton. The prior criminal was able to still use his talents. Only this time, Jim was setting up the kills of his former employees or allies. Mycroft never forced the man to destroy his own network but he found Jim was filled with the one thing Sherlock and Mycroft failed at the most; affection. Jim was willing to do anything to see Mycroft smile. He would create puzzles for the man, he would deduce which secret location the official was being sent to and surprise him with a visit to his hotel or by dressing as a worker at the building the meeting were at and he would constantly remind Mycroft that he spent too long not appreciating the hand on his name.

"I will never again forget that I was the one lucky enough to have your name on their soul." Jim's words were what made Mycroft's eyes stare at his hand any chance he could.

It was late as Mycroft updated John Watson's file. The man had spent half a year with his soulmate and three of those months they were both single. A strong part of him wanted to intervene but he knew it was a matter of time that they'd realize and complete the bond. He mused on how much time would be saved if the skin contact rule applied even if you weren't aware of who your soulmate was. Unfortunately some divine being or, more likely, strange genetic coding, chose the rules for soulmate bonds and it didn't matter how frequently John and Mary's arms brushed, until it was a deliberate soulmate connection, they'd keep dancing around each other.  
He added another picture of the pair to the file before noticing the scarlet red _James_ on his hand was suddenly black. Mycroft covered the name and begged that it was a light trick but when he drew his hand away, the name was still black. Slowly the official stood from his chair and walked past Anthea at her desk.

"Sir?" She question as he stumbled past her with wide eyes, "sir, what's wrong?"

When he failed to answer she strode over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, "Mycroft, what's happened?"

He placed his hand over hers, the hand with the blackened name, and as she realized what had happened she felt her boss's knees give out as he shook with sobs.

* * *

Mary found herself at John's apartment after yet another terrible date. She'd been dating only men with blacked out soulmates, hoping to avoid another incident like Craig.

"Ugh," she grumbled as John passed her a beer, "all they ever do is compare me to their dead soulmates. Shite, no offence. But really, if you're not ready to move on then don't go on dates. They're not even interesting stories like yours."

"Like mine?" John looked at her with confusion, "No offence? Wait, Sherlock wasn't my soulmate."

Mary straightened in her seat and stared up at him, "He wasn't?"

"No. I'm not gay. He was just my best friend. I cannot believe another person thought I was gay with him.  This entire... This entire time you've thought that?"

"Well yeah, all you do is talk about him and you were in a right funk when I met you. Couldn't say his name for two months without choking."

John glared, "It was traumatic!"

The blonde woman started to laugh, "Oh goodness. Here I was thinking there was no way you could be the John on my hand cause you're gay. Probably for the best though since I would've tried to date you otherwise."

With a pale face the doctor sat beside her, "Your... Your soulmate name is John?"

"Yeah. But you never gave me a second look so I figured yours isn't Mary."

"It is."

"Sorry?" Her smile started to turn.

"You were dating," John cleared his throat with a cough, "you were dating Craig and then when he found his soulmate you never mentioned it was John on your hand and I assumed it wasn't."

"Oh god," Mary raised her hand to cover her mouth as she spoke, "We're idiots. Part of me wants yours to be green because you're wonderful, but then we’d have the embarrassment of how stupid we've been.  Sherlock could’ve used us as a prime example of everyday idiots."

At the mention of green John had begun ripping off his glove. By the time Mary was done he had placed his bare hand around her drink and placed it onto the table. Mary, now with empty hands, took off her own gloves and placed her soulmate hand over John's, her own green letters being revealed. They felt the jolt of the bond forming and soon the two were laughing into a kiss.

* * *

It had been just over two years since John watched his best friend jump to his death. Now John sat at a restaurant about to propose to his new best friend.

The waiter can to the table and asked with a heavy French accent, "Can I ’elp you with anything, sir?"

John stared at the menu, his nerves eating away at him, "Hi, yeah. I’m looking for a bottle of champagne – a good one."

After a slightly long discussion, which John paid no attention to, he finally decided to tell the waiter, "Well, er, surprise me."

Had his mind been less occupied, the doctor may have noticed the familiar tone as the wine waiter spoke, "Certainly endeavouring to, sir."

* * *

Mycroft had finished meeting with Sherlock and sent the man off to what he was certain would be a messy reunion. His younger brother hadn't mentioned Jim and Mycroft felt it would be better to read it in the file rather than force Sherlock to awkwardly attempt at comforting him. The eldest wanted to skip through the file to find when it happened but fear of another breakdown had him wait until he was in the privacy of his house. He sat cross legged on a bed, a bed he had not slept in since Jim's name turned black. The pillow on the right side still smelt like Jim's hair despite the many times Mycroft pressed his nose to it.  With a sign and a cup of scotch he began to read the file.

"Mycroft," a familiar voice interrupted him before he could read past the twelfth page.  Standing in the doorway to their bedroom was Jim, "You left the office before I finished giving Clayton my brief."

Jim started to worry as Mycroft failed to move or speak. He practically ran to the bed and pulled Mycroft into his arms, "What's wrong?"

"You're dead." Mycroft spoke finally.

"What are you- oh god. Mycroft. Sebastian managed to catch me alone and wanted to personally destroy me. He choked me and I technically died for a few moments. Irene brought me back though after she drugged him. It didn't occur to any of us what would happen to the name. I can't imagine how you've suffered."

Suddenly Jim was pulled into a tight embrace as kisses were pressed to his face, “It doesn't matter, you're alive."

"If I hadn't already torn out that man's guts I'd do it again for the pain he caused you," Jim growled with a murderous look.

"It doesn't matter, James. You fixed it for me."


End file.
